Dragon Age - In the Twilight before the End
by Spiritblade
Summary: [ONE SHOT; HEAVY M-RATING] A one-shot story for the Sweet Iona Quest. Set in the beginning of Dragon Age for the male Human Noble Origin. [DRAFT 2 POSTED, 18/3/2017]


_**In the Twilight before the End**_

 _ **A Dragon Age fanfic**_

 _ **Written by Spiritblade**_

 _ **Disclaimer:**_ I do not own Dragon Age. The franchise belongs to Bio-Ware. I am only borrowing the characters to write this story, which is set at the very beginning of the Human Noble origin path prior to his becoming a Grey Warden. It had taken me some time after I had played the Dragon Age: Origins game to allow the story to crystallize in my mind (and most of it was taken up by my writing 'Gundam Seed: Lion of Heaven, Edited' as well as 'AMG: Temptations of a Goddess' story). I have taken some liberties in the crafting of this one-shot, and hope to be forgiven for any additions (and deviations) I have made.

 **ALSO, TAKE NOTE THAT THIS STORY IS RATED M FOR MATURE.**

Now, on to the story...

 **First Draft posted on 18/06/2016 (Chapter 1)**

 **Second Draft posted on 18/03/2017 (Chapter 2)**

 **(O)**

Highever was located on the northern coastal regions of Ferelden, a beautiful yet rugged country cradled by both snow-capped mountain and the open sea. During the summer months, the province was battered by storms that many in Ferelden's warmer south said was the voice of the Maker singing when He created the world. In autumn, the vast fields and meadows of the Coastlands would become a sea of golden fire that could steal one's breath away. In winter, a profound silence would descend upon it, allowing those that lived within its rugged embrace a chance to take full measure of the blessings one had received in the months that had passed.

Winter was also a time when the sons and daughters of Ferelden found themselves heeding the seductive whispers of the carnal demons of the Fade, and fornicated in a way that would have earned them the approval of said demons and causing the notoriously stoic Qunari to nod in approval before following in their example. The Elder of the Alienage in Denerim had once joked that the reason why the humans of Ferelden – descendants of barbarians, one and all – would copulate in the snow was to show their gods that the coldest of winters did nothing save fan their already ferocious libidos into raging infernos.

Make it older, they dared their deities, for we have and know plenty of ways to warm ourselves right up. Why else, the former Alienage Elder had added in mock despair, did the numbers of the _Shem_ increase so nine months later? Summer and spring were times of gentle passion, and winter was a time of respite and intimacy. Such was the order of the world as decreed by the gods and their priests. Trust humans to rut their way out of said decrees, and invite both parties to the ensuing orgy.

Iona's fellow City Elves had injured themselves in the ensuing pandemonium that followed. No few returned to sobriety with bruised back and sore ribs. But there was truth in what the former Elder had said: the sons and daughters of Ferelden had passion burned deep into their souls. They fought and lived with as much passion as they loved. Their songs and dances celebrated life. Death was a thing not to be feared, but accepted. In their eyes, nothing offended the Maker and their people more than a life wasted in gloom and despair. Let the other kingdoms and countries pay homage to Him with solemn prayer and stern adherence to the Chantry's dictates. Should the Maker turn His ear and gaze to Ferelden, He would be greeted with the sight and sounds of feasting and good cheer.

But good cheer was a thing that was becoming harder to come by. Rumour had it that the darkspawn were gathering far to the south, and that the Grey Wardens both within and outside Ferelden had been mobilized to aid the Royal Army of Ferelden in combating the threat. Ostagar, the ancient fortress built by the Tevinter Imperium centuries ago, had become the staging ground and the wall upon which the darkspawn horde would break.

Iona prayed to the Maker that the combined might of both Ferelden's armies and that of the Grey Wardens would be able to end the invasion. The blonde-haired City Elf remembered the stories her mother had told her about the darkspawn. The monsters carried within them both the corruption and the curse of the Tevinter Archmages who had broken into the Maker's home in Heaven and who the Creator had cast down for their hubris. The corruption in their souls soon became a thing of flesh and blood, a cancer that spread swiftly and brought about the nightmare of the First Blight.

It was only much later in the years after the First Blight did the scholar-mages of the newly-founded Order of the Grey Wardens give that cancer a name. They would call it the Taint. A thing of fearsome malevolence, the Taint was an unholy plague that made the darkspawn more feared than the demons of the Fade. For while demonic possession could be undone by the joint efforts of the Chantry and the Circle, being infected with the Taint was a death sentence.

The lucky ones died – or were killed – before they became ghouls. The unlucky ones would live long enough to become slaves to the darkspawn, and even these would not last out the year as the Taint devoured them from the inside out. Far worse fates, however, awaited any woman captured by the darkspawn. These would be raped mercilessly and repeatedly, as exposure to the Taint and the ingestion of corrupted flesh changed her from whatever she had been into a broodmother. It was for that reason that female soldiers would cut their own throats when they realized that the battle against the darkspawn was lost, and why fathers would murder their wives and daughters rather than let them fall into the hands of the victorious monsters. No few Grey Wardens had watched such a fate befall those they loved, and all were determined to kill any darkspawn unlucky enough to get within reach of blade, bow and mystical bolt.

But the Taint also had an effect on the land and the animals that lived off it. Nothing could grow on Blighted land. Animals either sickened and died or were turned into Tainted reflections of their former selves. It was for that reason that the rulers of the land considered purifying Blighted land as the utmost priority, even if it was an endeavour that would cost them dearly both in time and money. To do otherwise was to incur the ire of both their subjects and the Chantry, the combination of which had seen to Kings losing more than just their right to rule.

Iona hoped that King Cailan and the Royal Army of Ferelden would be able to defeat the Darkspawn horde that was amassing in the south before they became a threat to the towns and villages in southern and central Ferelden. She prayed that it was only an incursion led by a powerful Darkspawn warlord or emissary and not one led by an Archdemon. The thought of one of the seven corrupted Dragon Gods once worshipped by the Tevinter Imperium made her shiver, for the might of these ancient beings was second to none. Not even death stayed their wrath, for these could be reborn in any Darkspawn nearby, and would return to the fray before long, filled with wrath and vengeance. Only a Grey Warden could slay an Archdemon, and these forfeited their soul in doing so, even as it earned them a place in the hearts, minds and history books of the realm.

"Is something wrong, Iona?"

The voice of Lady Landra broke the female City Elf out of her thoughts. Iona turned to face her mistress, who had put aside the book she had been reading and had turned her full attention on her. The latter had aged well. Despite the wife of her master being in her early fifties, Iona's mistress was still as spry and lively as a woman half her age and her raven locks sported less silver than her husband. Recent events, however, had served to dampen the noblewoman's normally vivacious air and add a good measure of silver to her raven locks and lines to her already weary face.

"Nothing, mistress," Iona lied, pausing as the carriage she was in slipped into a small pothole, "I was just thinking about my daughter. I promised her that I would buy her something nice in Highever."

The older woman smiled, "You will. The market there sells goods from across and beyond the Waking Sea. I'm confident that you will find something for little Amethyne. It helps that prices there are lower than in Denerim, so go ahead and avail yourself to what is on offer. I know _I_ will. Which reminds me, dear Iona," the mischievous smirk that curved her lips and the wicked gleam in her eyes caused both Iona and her mistress's son to swallow hard, "Do buy yourself a fetching dress, won't you? I do believe that Aedan has returned from his trip to Orlais, and needs to be reminded that a woman of Ferelden – human or elf – has more fire between her legs and heft in her breasts than those painted sluts in Val Royeaux!"

"Mistress...!" the female elf wailed, her face going through all the colours of a glorious sunset. Iona turned to look at her mistress's son for aid, only to find that the latter was doing the passable impression of both a landed fish and a tomato. Iona did not need to need to be a mage to know that the mind of the young master had thrown a wheel and was in the gutter, and that the last was enjoying every minute of it. Merry laughter filled the carriage, the words exchanged within serving only to amuse those outside it.

Many were the grins exchanged and prayers made to the Maker for His mercy of not putting them within easy reach of the infamous Cat of Denerim. When the latter was of a mood for mischief, none were safe. Flight was often the wiser course of action, but few were fortunate enough to escape the noblewoman's grasp. These would pray for divine intervention, but rarely were their pleas for aid ever granted. The immortals enjoyed all too much the torment of their worshippers.

 **X X X**

Those who lived in the Coastlands agreed that Highever was the beating heart of northern Ferelden. Home to over six thousand souls, the city served as the port by which traders from the Free Marches and beyond would dock at before making their way to the rest of Ferelden. As such, it was ever a busy place. Merchants from as far as the Tevinter Imperium and the Anderfels would set up shop in its central market, and mercenaries from the length and breadth of Thedas would gather in the city's Guild Halls, seeking employment (which were plentiful, as coin was being given and granted by both the Crown and the nobles of Ferelden to bring to bear as many swords against the darkspawn as could be gathered). Scholars engaged Templars and Mages in vigorous debate, while human and dwarven blacksmiths worked alongside elven craftsmen to sharpen and forge weapons of war that would, they hoped, turn the tide in the favour of Ferelden's defenders.

The banners of the Couslands and their vassals stood proudly in the town square, their presence a declaration that all had answered their liege lord's call and stood ready to defend their land against the monstrous invader that gathered in the south. Priests of the Chantry gave sermons and blessings to those who departed to fight against the darkspawn, and fuelled zealous fury with the promise that the Maker would forgive whatever sins they had done and welcome them with open arms should they fall. Well-armed constables wearing the livery of the Highever garrison ensured that order was kept by truncheon and well-worded threat.

No few had chosen to bury their fears and doubts in drink or in the warm embrace of the numerous prostitutes that plied their trade vigorously both within and outside the walls of the brothels that lined the adjacent street. Iona felt her eyes drawn from the scantily-clad harlots to the dark-skinned, tattooed Rivaini dancer performing on the makeshift stage on the street corner. The latter's sensual movements raised temperatures and cheers in equal measure.

The female City Elf recognized the dance; it was one of many she had seen practiced by those who worked in Denerim's red-light district. Wandering bards down on their luck would teach what they knew to those willing to learn in exchange for food and lodging (and, if possible, some coin along the way). Many of these were veritable fonts of wisdom when it came to the matters of the heart and the ensnaring of such. Seduction was an art, the female Orlesian bard who had once visited the Oswin manse in Denerim had told her. A heart was akin to a lyre; to possess the skill to make music of it was one that had to be learned slowly. Mastery of the arts sensual gave one the power to win the hearts of those whom death had yet to claim, and set the blood in the veins of one's intended ablaze.

Noble-born or commoner, it mattered not. The black fire that burned deep in the souls of the Maker's children was the same regardless of station or race, tempting them to indulge in the pleasures of the flesh and to let slip the chains of morality and self-control. Its promises had seen to the most jaded soul to seek out horizons and heights found only in sensual rapture. Those who had yet to be married – and a few that were – allowed said fire to consume them. These would seek out lovers if only to spice up relationships that had gone sour or to seek out lovers that would fill the void in their hearts.

Iona was unlike her more adventurous neighbours. She had no wish to part her legs for any man, regardless of station or race. The teachings of the Chantry was the firm leash that saw to her not sinking into the morass of sin that many took pleasure or coin from. But the female elf could not deny the allure of doing so, as it would be a balm to the loneliness she felt ever since her husband had died some three years back...

"I always did like the Rivaini dances and their music," the voice of her mistress broke Iona elf out of her train of thought, "It is a pity that your father does not. It is good for the soul. Honest. Free. Both are needed so that life will not be a slog through the swamp."

"It is not that father does not like their music or their culture, mother," Lord Dairren, the son of her mistress, replied with a stony look, "It is that you try to emulate their bards and dancers which causes him to shiver in fear. Your singing is capable of driving an Archdemon further into madness, and your dancing is akin to a dwarven golem running amok in a crowded marketplace. Not convinced? Do you remember how Aedan had reacted when you asked him to dance with you?"

The scandalised look on the noblewoman's face caused both Iona and the two guards accompanying them to quickly turn their attentions elsewhere, lest they find themselves at the mercy of the Cat of Denerim. But the Maker was in a merry mood this day, and had seen to it that Iona's eyes would come to rest on a stall selling garments similar to that which was worn by the Rivaini dancer-gypsy. Said clothing was brighter in shade and colour and revealed less skin. The lovely storeowner, realizing that she had a potential customer, raised said garments up to Iona, inviting her to take a closer look.

"Ah, I see that my wares have caught your eye, fair elf!" the Rivaini woman said with a brilliant smile, "Come! Peruse all that I have, for I have the best my clan have made! And at a fair price, I can promise you that no man will be able to take his eyes off you!"

Iona was about to decline the offer but her mistress, seeing a chance to regain her footing, had immediately pounced. It was at that very moment – and seeing the mischievous look on the latter's face – that the female elf knew that she was doomed.

"Oh-ho...!" the singsong tone in Lady Landra's voice caused Iona start to sweat bullets, "I see that you have found something that you like. Oh, I do so approve! Do you have one that is more...sheer, my dear?" the last was directed at the Rivaini storeowner, who had proceeded to join in the teasing, "Something that can get a man thinking about more...intimate matters than weighty ones?"

The grin on the Rivaini woman's face matched the older woman's, "I do."

 **(O)**

 _ **Castle Cousland**_

 _ **Servants' Quarters**_

 _ **Four hours later...**_

It had been six months since Iona had last seen the younger son of Bryce and Eleanor Cousland. The last time the female elf had seen the latter had been during the spring salon hosted by the Cousland family's matriarch prior to his departure to Orlais. The man had changed little since then. His rust-brown hair was longer, the playful smile more infectious, and the powerfully-built body more rugged. He moved like a panther, radiating power and grace, the sweat on his body serving to highlight and magnify the virility that had driven many women wild with desire and saw to many more parting their legs. Truly, it had been most fortunate that Iona's room overlooked the training grounds where the younger Cousland scion was training.

Iona had heard many stories about Aedan Cousland from her fellow servants as well as the nobles living in Denerim. Many of said stories were absent truth, but others were writ in stone and deed. Aedan was a skilled swordsman. He loved hunting. He had seen more of Thedas in the six years he had been a ranger than most nobles had in their lifetimes. He could comport himself both on and off the battlefield. He absolutely _hated_ politics, but was capable of navigating its treacherous waters well. He showed an utter disregard for the feudal hierarchy, treating freemen – regardless of what race or gender they were – with a courtesy and regard that few nobles in Thedas would show their inferiors.

He was an absolute beast in the bedchamber, if the stories she had heard about the younger Cousland scion were true. It was said that the latter had once taken three women into his bed, and that none were capable of movement or rational thought in the hours that followed. Rumour was proven real when a daring quartet of women threw down a gauntlet none would be able to retrieve in the glowing aftermath of passionate intercourse. What would happen to a woman who had the courage to challenge the rust-haired noble to a contest of carnal intercourse was a foregone conclusion. The proud maiden would be ploughed into sweet oblivion, broken beyond the dreams of the most wanton harlot and made a willing slave to the man who had impregnated her.

It was a fantasy that appealed to many women, including Iona herself. Like them, the female elf had imagined herself at the Lord Aedan's mercy. She had seen herself naked and helpless, the latter's callused hands touching her in places her long-dead husband never had. He would devour her as the wolf devoured the lamb, despoil and defile her as bandits would a hapless peasant girl, and sheathe his manhood within her body with a ferocity that was at odds with her reputation for being a gentle lover. He would break her both in mind and body, and she would love him for it.

With racing heart and growing need, Iona knew that she had to find release soon or be driven mad from its denial. Allowing the yellow and crimson dress she wore to slip off her shoulders, the female elf undid the strings that kept her undergarments secure. These fell swiftly away, as did the ribbons that kept her hair bound, allowing them to fall to their natural length. A brief glance at the nearby mirror revealed to her not the demure, shy woman who had served the Oswin family for over a decade, but temptation made all the more sweeter by motherhood and simple faith. Her breasts were larger than from before her marriage and Amethyne's birth. Her body was shapely and strong, the product of hard labour and a good diet. Any seed sown in her body would find fertile soil and take firm root, to take shape of a child born in sinful passion.

By such means could one seize laurels beyond one's station, and ensure that poverty and hardship be made a distant memory. There were those in the Alienage who suggested that Iona make good use of her feminine charms, if only to give her daughter a better life, but the latter had immediately discarded the notion. She would not sink to the level of those women who had abandoned their morals to gain what honest labour could. To trade virtue for vice would not only serve to vindicate the Maker's decision to turn His back on His creation, but also earn her the contempt of the one she hoped would accept her affections. Iona did not want that. She wanted to see Lord Aedan's eyes fill with lust and warmth. She wanted it to gleam with playful delight and hunger. She wanted it to gaze upon her with love and admiration.

Sitting down on the nearby chair, her eyes looking upon the object of her desire, the female elf began to pleasure herself. One hand involuntarily went to her damp nether regions, while another toyed with her breast. The way Lord Aedan moved as he evaded the blows of his opponents and the grunts he made as he parried and lashed out with his wooden practice swords served to lend make real the mental image of the human noble ravishing her. Every thrust of his body would see to her hips leaving the bed, her internal muscles clamping down tight upon his manhood as it strove to penetrate the sacred confines of her womb.

The intensity of the match reached fever pitch as two others entered the duelling circle, to the roaring cheers of those surrounding it. It was for naught; Lord Aedan swiftly sent his first opponent flying before sending his two would-be rescuers crashing into the sand. The cry of triumph that left his lips was one that mirrored the mental image Iona had of the rust-haired noble as he poured a torrent of seed into her body, staining her inner thighs and the bed upon which they laid. The female elf writhed in ecstasy as pleasure flooded her veins and ecstasy stole away reason. A fierce spray of fluid and milk shot out from the opening between Iona's legs and the aureoles on her breasts, and she gave vent to a strangled cry, a sound she knew would not be heard by those below as all were in the midst of celebrating - or cursing their luck, for those who had wagered wrongly – their winnings.

It would take the female elf the better part of five minutes before she was able to think clearly. She raised one hand, wet and slick with gleaming fluids. Smiling, she took a long, loving lick, allowing the fantasy that filled her mind to recede with gentle languor. No slave would be so happy with such silken chains binding her. No shameless lush would feel so satisfied with the rapture that such submission could purchase. Lust had released its fierce grip on the female elf, but had sown in her the desire to make her dream a reality.

 **X X X**

It was only in the late afternoon did Iona meet Aedan in person. Clad in leather armour and cloak, and armed with weapons carried by the rangers of Ferelden, the second son of Teyrn Bryce Cousland strode up to where she and her mistress were conversing with Teyrna Eleanor Cousland, accompanied by his mabari hound, Fenrir. The massive creature barked at her in welcome, remembering the time when she had fed it several strips of spiced jerky. It practically pounced on her mistress's son, licking his face happily.

"Fenrir...!" the rust-haired noble gave his dog a stony look, "Don't go about scaring our guests! Was it not enough that you almost ate the servants in the kitchen? And now you want to add Lady Landra's lady-in-waiting and my friend to your dinner? What? Was that side of beef not enough for you? You're going to grow fat, you know!"

Amused looks were thrown the younger noble's way. The huge mastiff sat on its haunches and whined unhappily.

"It is good to see you again, Aedan," Lady Landra chuckled at the dog's reaction, "I heard you went to Orlais. How was it?"

"I daresay that I will not be setting foot in that country again anytime soon. Their...games can leave one with a severe headache, to say nothing of the complications they bring," Aedan rubbed his temples, "I think it will be better if we let Fergus or father talk to our Orlesian business partners the next time. They will not do as I have, I think."

Teyrna Eleanor raised an eyebrow at her son's words, "No, they won't. If Fergus or your father did as you had, Oriana and I would have killed them. And before you ask, yes, I am aware of what you did in Orlais. I have friends there, as does your father. We were _made_ aware of your...exploits. Had you not gotten involved with Dame Sheila or the Lady Sarah Doraine, the task your father and I set before you would be absent loose ends. Unfortunately, you had to make it more difficult, didn't you?"

Aedan rubbed the back of his neck, "I'm sorry, mother."

"I think you had better say those words to the fathers of Dame Sheila and Lady Sarah, Aedan," the matriarch of the Cousland family crossed her arms, "They will no doubt wish to have words with you. You have ruined their daughters for everyone else, if what my contacts in Orlais are telling me is true. Dear Maker, Aedan," Eleanor Cousland shook her head, "why, oh, why did it have to be _Orlesian_ noblewomen you had to cozen into your bed? I wouldn't have minded as much if you took an elf or a freewoman as a lover! At least those wouldn't have brought half that come with your winning the affections of both Dame Sheila and Lady Sarah!"

The younger Cousland scion grinned sheepishly, and did not speak for several long minutes. When he finally did, it was to ask if his actions would lead to his being sent to Ostagar with his older brother by his father. At the very least, the young noble reasoned, his being sent to stop a Darkspawn invasion would be seen by the irate fathers of said women he had seduced as both as stern punishment and suitable penance. No one sent assassins or debt-collectors after men and women sent to stop a possible Blight. Notwithstanding the fact that said individuals were likely to die from the Taint as from darkspawn blades, it was seen as an act of treason that would arouse the ire of both Chantry and Crown. Execution or exile was the sentence that awaited the offender should either get their hands on him, with the hammer falling hardest should the Grey Wardens get involved. The vengeance of the last was a thing not easily forgotten or endured, and many were those who had chosen execution over being bound in chains heavier than any the Maker could have wrought.

"Do you think my suggestion a credible one, mother? It will give father some leverage should the fathers of Dame Sheila and the Lady Sarah arrive at our door."

"I doubt your father will agree. He is set in his decision that you will remain here while he and Fergus go to Ostagar. The wolves you have set on your own heels are yours to deal with," the Cousland matriarch gave her younger son a grin fit for said animal, "I do so look forward to seeing how you will extricate yourself from this predicament, my foolish son."

"Your assistance in this matter will be greatly appreciated, Dairren," the younger Cousland scion turned to look at his friend.

"I see no reason to join you in so bloody and foolish a death, Aedan. You dug your own grave and paved the road to it," the latter replied in a heartbeat.

"Your heart is blacker and colder than the ruin the Maker lived in," Aedan gave Dairren a stony look, before the humour drained from his face, indicating that the matter he was about to bring up was one that merited little of such, "I take it that you have all heard the news from the south?"

Everyone nodded.

"I will not sweeten your ears nor lighten your hearts with false truths, but tell you that the threat there has grown more serious than it was two months prior. That a Grey Warden commander," Aedan nodded in the direction of Castle Cousland's great hall, "has come here seeking new recruits to join the Order is proof that the situation in the south has deteriorated. My contacts in Lothering tell me that there are twenty thousand – if not more – darkspawn gathering in the Korcari Wilds. The Chasind tribes there are either joining the Royal Army at Ostagar to help fight the Darkspawn or fleeing north."

"Twenty thousand...?" Dairren looked pale, "That many?"

"With more gathering every day," Aedan added, "The rangers and the Royal Army have been conducting hit-and-run attacks on the darkspawn in the Wilds in hopes of lessening their numbers before they attack Ostagar, a strategy that General Loghain may well abandon in favour of strengthening the fortress's defences for the storm that will crash against its walls."

Teyrna Eleanor did not speak for a long time, and broke the heavy silence to ask her son if their homeland was facing a possible Blight.

"I don't know, mother. I hope not. I pray to the Maker that it is not what we all fear it is. Because if we are wrong, it will mean that an Archdemon is leading the Darkspawn hordes. And I think you know, even if it is from the stories, how powerful the corrupted Old Gods are," Aedan replied, before turning his eyes on Dairren and Lady Landra, "Dairren, Lady Landra – I have a request to make to the both of you. Fortify both your lands and your manor. Prepare for war, and do so with the understanding that there will be no surrender to this enemy.

The darkspawn are not like the Orlesians. It is better by far to be under the boot of the latter than at the mercy of the former, for death will be a mercy as compared to the torments that await you in the Deep Roads."

"What are King Cailan's chances of beating back the darkspawn, Aedan...?" Dairren asked his friend.

"Slim. We are outnumbered at least three to one. Our eastern flank is not as heavily defended as our western one, a shortcoming I hope General Loghain will address as soon as possible. If he does not, the forces in Ostagar will find themselves open to attack from both there and the rear. Should that happen, the fortress will be taken..."

"Such defeatism is so unlike you, Aedan. We have the full might of Ferelden's Grey Wardens alongside our Royal Army as well as the Circle and the Templars. Ostagar has been fortified, if your words are any indication, to an extent to rival the time when the Tevinter Imperium ruled over our homeland. Every blade and bow that can be call upon to defend the realm has been gathered. We _will_ win."

"Numbers alone do not guarantee victory, Lady Landra," Aedan replied, "Tactics win you battles. Strategies win you wars. Cailan is nowhere as good in either as General Loghain. He is brave and skilled, but the strength of one's sword arm against a horde numbering in the thousands can only take you so far."

"I take it that that is the other reason why you want to go to Ostagar, Aedan?" Teyrna Eleanor asked her son, "You wish to ensure that Cailan is not absent friends when he goes into battle."

"Indeed. Cailan needs his friends to guard his back, mother. You know what he is like. And yes, Dairren," Aedan nodded towards Dairren, "When I made mention of our King's friends, that includes you. When you and your mother have done what I asked earlier, gather as many soldiers as you are able and join my father and Fergus in Ostagar. I have spoken with our friends, and all are making their way to Ostagar even as we speak. I cannot join you, as my father has instructed me to watch over Highever in his absence, but I swear that I will send reinforcements as soon as I am able."

"Understood," the other man replied.

"Thank the gods that I only flirted with you during the spring salon, dear boy," Lady Landra spoke, the playful smile on her face causing the grim atmosphere to dissipate almost instantly, "Had I been two decades younger, you would be in _serious_ trouble. You and I could have really made a few notches on both blade and bow. And I would have given those two Orlesian harpies a run for their money!"

Iona stared at her mistress with widened eyes and loosened jaw. Dear Maker in all His glory, did she have no shame? No one would ever forget how she had attempted to get Aedan between her legs. The fact that she had been drunk enough to floor half a dozen dwarves had served as a good excuse for her behaviour, but it was clear now that the mistress of the Oswin lands had done what she did on purpose.

"Mother...!" Dairren looked absolutely horrified.

"Oh, don't get your smallclothes in a twist, Dairren," Lady Landra chuckled, "When you have taken a sip from the chalice that your friend has, you will come around to our way of thinking. Of course, I will expect you to not bring as much trouble to our door as Aedan has done."

"It appears that no one is going to let my sins rest easy in their respective graves," Aedan grumbled under his breath, "I suppose with me being so condemned in the Maker's eyes, I suppose I may as well leap off the cliff into the embrace of excommunication and apostasy and spare everyone the trouble."

"Oh, stop being such a sourpuss, Aedan," the Oswin matriarch grinned, "As it is, I trust you remember my lady-in-waiting?"

Aedan turned to look at Iona, and the female elf could not help but blush under his gaze and smile, "It is good to see you well, my lord."

"And you as well, Iona. I trust that everything is good in the Oswin manse?"

"It is. I truly hope that this war will be a brief one."

"As do I, Iona. As do I," Aedan replied, before turning to look at his mother, "Mother, have you seen Fergus? Father wants me to inform him to leave for Ostagar ahead of him."

"Why?" the Cousland matriarch asked.

"It seems that Arl Howe's men have been delayed due to one of their wagons having thrown a wheel. Father will leave with him and his honour guard when they arrive tomorrow."

"I see. Your brother is with your sister-in-law and your nephew in his bedroom."

Aedan nodded, before turning his attention to Dairren, "Are you open to a round of chess later, Dairren? I can very much use the distraction to ease my worries."

"I'd like that. We can talk more about your recent trip to Orlais. Without," Dairren emphasised the word, "the more parts that involve you running a brothel into the ground..."

"I am never going to hear the end of it, am I?" Aedan growled.

"Never," Dairren gave his friend a winning smile, "Your punishment is only just beginning, Aedan."

 **X X X**

The game that Aedan and Dairren had would last for the better part of an hour, after which the latter would depart for the kitchens to bring them a small repast. It was in that moment that the rust-haired noble would take the chance to speak with her. Though they had met several times before, now was the first time they truly had a private conversation.

Aedan had asked her about husband, who had died of a wasting disease, and her daughter, whom she adored. He had asked how things really were in the Oswin manse, and she asked him why his mother did not seem to have a lady-in-waiting as so many others beneath her. Self-reliance had ever been, Iona learned, a character trait of the Cousland family; they detested having others do for them what they could do for themselves. Power and authority was a thing borne with grace and humour. By laughing at themselves and showing that they were no different from those they ruled had served to engender fanatical loyalty among both freemen and lesser nobles alike.

"I would like to get to know you better, Iona," Aedan finally said.

The female elf's heart raced upon hearing those words. It could mean anything, and she had to be careful so as not to misunderstand it.

"I don't understand, my lord. Aren't we doing just that...?"

A gentle smile, one that made her blush and that wicked voice at the back of her mind tell her that the fantasy she had nursed for many a night was about to come true. The hunger in her goaded her to recklessness. She could _feel_ the strength and virility in the Lord Aedan's body, and wanted to drink deep of it and stain her body with his essence. She wanted to be on her knees, before him, serving him as was her station and pleasuring him as was her wish.

"I meant more intimately, in my room," Aedan said, "Tonight."

"I...see. I think I might like that," Iona saw the desire and lust in his eyes, and liked it. She stepped closer, so that their bodies were almost touching, "If I come to your door when everyone is asleep, will that be agreeable, my lord...?"

"Yes," and he stepped closer, running a finger down her jaw, "And please, call me Aedan."

 **X X X**

 _ **Castle Cousland**_

 _ **Midnight**_

Iona made her way to Lord Aedan's room in the upper levels of Castle Cousland, taking care to avoid the few soldiers that remained in the fortress as well as those servants whose labours for the day had yet to be finished. Many within the castle were already deep in slumber. Those yet awake were on the verge of slipping into the gentle embrace of the Fade, and could care less about what was transpiring beyond their door. All save one, who no doubt was waiting patiently for the arrival of one who bore a sensual gift on her person. Upon arriving at the latter's door, she knocked upon it three times, a pre-arranged signal that would inform the one she was to meet that she had arrived.

The door opened a moment later, to reveal the younger Cousland scion in all his glory. What the female elf beheld caused her eyes to widen, her lips to go dry and her heart to race. She had seen Lord Aedan half-naked on the training grounds several hours prior, his powerful body gleaming in the sun and radiating a primal strength that stirred the depths of a woman's soul to raging passion. Now, he was a breath away from being totally so.

Iona saw the faded scars on his well-sculpted body, testament to a life lived in danger and hardship and tempered in a crucible that devoured lesser men and women as dragons did a flock of sheep. Lord Aedan wore only his smallclothes, and this served to accentuate his manhood, a slumbering beast that had yet to be awoken, and which was already a fierce predator even in slumber. It took all of Iona's willpower to tear her gaze away and meet the rust-haired noble's eyes, blushing even as he took her hand and led her into the room before shutting the door behind them.

"I am here, my lord," Iona said with soft reverence as she leaned back against the door, raising her arms over her head, a pose that would allow her human lover full access to her body, "To serve and worship you with warm flesh and willing heart. I ask only that you be gentle, for I have forgotten much of the carnal arts that I was taught in years past..."

"Then let your desire dictate your actions, my sweet Iona," Aedan replied as he pulled the female elf into his strong arms, "And you will find those forgotten lessons returning on swift wings..."

He kissed her fiercely then, his hands taking measure of her body and finding it to his liking. Her full breasts and shapely hips were made not only for the bearing of children, but for sensual pleasure as well. To indulge in the last was to breathe life into the second. Iona closed her eyes and moaned, her tongue duelling with Aedan's, even as she pushed her still-clothed body against her lover's near-naked one.

When the kiss was finally broken, it was Iona who had found breath stolen and body heavy with desire. She reached up and loosened the ribbon that kept her hair bound. It fell in honey-gold cascade, to frame her face and body. Her hands went then to the laces that secured both her dress and skirt, loosening them enough so that they would slip to the floor and reveal what she wore beneath. The sudden intake of breath told Iona that Aedan liked what he saw. No longer was she the demure and shy lady-in-waiting who had ever been the shadow of her kind mistress, but a wanton harlot steeped in sin who desired naught but the satiation of her unending hunger.

The garments that now graced Iona's near-nude form were far more scandalous than the ones worn by the Rivaini dancer in the marketplace. It emphasised her breasts and shapely figure, even as it led the eyes of the beholder stray to cleavage and crevice, an invitation to immorality and infidelity. Callused hands soon reached out to fondle her breasts, and Iona gasped as Aedan's fingers teased her already sensitive nipples. They soon slipped around her back as the latter pulled her in for another kiss.

Iona felt her Aedan's manhood press against both her nether regions and lower stomach, hard and aroused. She could sense that her lover wanted to take her then and there, but wanted her aroused enough so that she would be able to enjoy the torments he would visit on her body. Knowing this, and desiring to worship him, to show him how a slave tended to her master, she pushed him down gently onto the bedside before kneeling between his legs.

Aedan knew what she intended to do, and nodded in approval. Her deft fingers undid his breeches, allowing his phallus to spring free from its confines. Iona felt shock, fear and delight war within her at the size of her lover's manhood. Was this why Lord Aedan had so many lovers? Sheathed within the body of a woman, his sword would have made the strongest of them writhe in ecstasy, reason devoured and heart and body bound in silken chains.

Iona ran a gentle finger down the underside of her lover's phallus, before gently brushing her fingers over the heavy sacs that flanked it at it base. Generous would her lord be in the sowing of his seed, the female elf knew. Heady lust and raging desire saw to her desiring a taste of said bounty, and saw to wanton elf leaning forward to take said organ into her mouth. She lubricated her lover's proud sword with her saliva, running her tongue over its veins, before moving her head back and forth vigorously.

Lessons taught to her by those more experienced in the sensual arts returned, and aided her in the pleasuring of the man she knelt before. The female elf slowly took more and more of her human lover into her mouth, till its tip brushed the back of her throat, sinking deep. The way the latter writhed told the former that her efforts to please him were better than she had hoped. It wasn't long before her lover took control, using her as was his right to slake his lusts. The tempo increased ferociously, until he held her head firmly against his loins. Fierce jets of hot, salty-sour fluid blasted down Iona's throat, and the female elf held her breath so as not to choke. She was shocked by the sheer amount that was poured down her throat. Had he sown such in her womb, she would have left Highever with child. If this was what had soiled the bodies of Lord Aedan's many lovers, how many babes of Cousland blood had been born in the lands beyond Ferelden?

Iona did not know, nor did she care. What she did know was that a man like Aedan would reach out to said babes and women, recognizing the second and grateful to the last. He would be a giant in the eyes of his sons and daughters, as radiant and proud as the Frostback Mountains when the sun crested them. The people of Ferelden _loved_ big families; many boasted at least three children. Others had more. All were closely-knit. The ties that bound in Ferelden were stronger than those in other more 'civilised' nations. Life and family was a thing held dear and worshipped, a chalice drunk to its dregs, for death was a thing easy to find in Thedas and safety and prosperity a thing much desired.

With one last swallow, Iona pulled back. Panting hard, the female elf tried to regain some measure of control. She found herself unable to. She wanted more. She wanted the fantasy she had entertained for months beyond counting to be made a reality. Iona raised her head to look at Aedan, her eyes giving voice to the question her lips could not. The latter smiled down at her and nodded. He knew she wanted more, and he would give her what she wanted.

The female City Elf soon found herself on the bed, the brassiere that bound her full breasts cast aside and the loincloth that was the last barrier to penetration undone. She was naked before this magnificent predator, her body an offering to the twin promises of sensual bliss and sinful pleasure. The opening between her parted legs, Iona knew, was moist; it was ready to accept the enormous organ that brushed against it with fierce intent. Doubt raised its head briefly; would her body be able to sheathe so mighty a sword? Would she break? Would agony be the price of her daring? She did not know, but fear and desire mingled together was a heady draught that refused reason or hesitation. No, doubt and fear had no place here. She would take this step and finish the journey, or find herself forever frustrated and embarrassed by her indecision and lack of courage.

Her blue eyes met lover's gray ones, and she nodded her consent. Aedan leaned over her, kissing her fiercely as his phallus began to sheathe itself in her body. Iona's eyes widened as her internal muscles clamped down tightly upon the enormous intruder, and she writhed as Aedan penetrated her further. Tormented wails were silenced by her lover's lips, and tears of joy and pain spilling from her eyes. Reason and morals had been cast to the wayside, and base desire and primal instinct had come to the fore. The female elf wrapped her arms around the body of her human lover, heeding the primordial wisdom that the Maker had gifted to all His children.

Oh, sweet Maker, she felt _everything_. The feel of Aedan's strong, muscular body against hers; his lips, tasting of wine and apples, claiming her; her body screaming in joy and pain, relishing the pleasure it had long been denied and promising that her transgression would break her in ways that would make her weep in joy. Iona giggle deliriously; the thought of giving her darling Amethyne a sibling to spoil was a delightful one. If the Maker saw fit to bless her with good fortune, maybe she would have a father as well.

The electrifying sensation of Aedan pushing against the entrance to her womb served to return Iona to a moment of clarity, and brought with it the promise of a final, ruinous fall that would see her wings and body broken. Aedan broke the kiss, taking the opportunity to see run a lusty gaze over the beautiful elven woman beneath him. Whatever reason or self-control in the latter was long-gone, and he was close to letting his instincts and desires slip the leash.

"A...Aedan," Iona begged in a tortured yet sensual voice, "M...my lord...I...I am yours. I will...be your slave; with my body...shall I serve and pleasure you! So please...fill me with your seed and dye my soul with your colours...!"

Aedan smiled, than thrust his lips forward ferociously, pushing his manhood into the moist confines of Iona's womb...

" _ **Ooohhnnghhh...!"**_

...before sealing her lips with his once more. It denied the female elf the chance to give voice to her torment, serving to drive it into the arms of agonizing ecstasy. How Iona writhed in Aedan's arms; how she moaned, the sound of which, had it been allowed to be given voice, would have alerted the latter's of the sensual trespass that was taking place upon his bed. But how shocked they would be, to behold had they opened the door, the sight of her being ploughed so ferociously, and of her desire to ensure that her lover's seed took firm root within her womb.

Aedan thrust his hips against Iona's without mercy, and the latter matched him in kind. Primal instinct saw to her limbs wrapped around her lover's body, tightening with each earthshaking orgasm that tore through her veins. She died a thousand tiny deaths, each one sweeter and more breathtaking than the last. She felt bodily fluids form spray from the opening between her legs in a fierce spray, and milk shot fierce jets from both her breasts.

"I will put a child into your body, Iona," Aedan growled in her ear as he sheathed his phallus in her body to the very hilt, "And then I will put another in you after it is born, and another one after that, until we are surrounded by our children and their grand-children on our death-beds. And in the long months after each conception, I will fill your body with my seed, and bathe you in it like the lusty whore that you are..."

The lewd words turned the orgasm that tore through Iona into one that almost stopped her heart. The cry that the female elf nearly gave voice to became a choked one, the ecstatic agony stealing both breath and voice away in a grip stronger than steel and stone combined. The fierce eruption within her body saw to her womb being filled once more and the passage that led into it being coated with semen. Iona's eyes rolled to the back of her head, as her mind overloaded from the pleasure that nearly broke her. It was only moments later – moments that felt like an eternity – when she felt Lord Aedan's body on hers, his harsh panting in her ear.

The more conservative elders and elves in the Alienages throughout Thedas as well as their Dalish counterparts frowned upon the union of man and elf. The reason for this was because any children born from such a coupling would be human rather than elf, serving to reduce the numbers of the latter even further. But Iona cared for neither the past nor the laws made by those long dead and who she cared little for. She cared only for the present, and the sensual promise that would see to the satiation of a hunger that had grown great in the two years since her husband's death.

Aedan soon pushed himself up, and cast an admiring gaze upon her. Her breasts heaving and stained with milk; her radiant skin drenched in sweat; her lips parted and her golden hair plastered to her face in a manner that was both bewitching and virginal. A playful smile soon curved his lips, the warmth of which reached his eyes and which was but an ember as compared to his lusts raging to the fore once more. Iona could feel her human lover's manhood harden within her body once more, and her eyes widened. It was not possible! How many times had he taken her? How many times would he take her before he would be satisfied? She did not know, and the knowledge both frightened and delighted her. And what more, her lewd body desired more of that which had soiled it.

"M-Master Ah-Aedan..." Iona moaned, "Please... _ **Ahhhkkk!**_ "

Aedan kissed her, ending her pleas for mercy, "We are far from done, my sweet Iona."

Without pulling out of her, the rust-haired noble rolled her over, so that Iona was facing downwards. The latter gave vent to a strangled gasp as she felt new sensations in areas that had not been touched earlier. Iona supported herself on her elbows, so that she could bear Aedan's weight. The latter was heavier than she was by far, and their current position meant he would be able to strike even deeper than before.

" _ **Ahhhnnn...!"**_

The human noble leaned forward, his callused hands running over her buttocks, down her flanks, and finally to cup her large breasts, squeezing it with approval. He took hold of her wrists, before leaning back and proceeding to ram.

" _ **Ahhh! Ahhhkkk! Ahhhnnn...!"**_

Every thrust saw to the female elf crying out in pleasure, her breasts swaying vigorously with each. Aedan ploughed her fiercely, filling her belly with his rich essence to overflowing, and allowing her to see the thick, white rivulets that stained her inner thighs, and which led to the growing pool between her legs. The younger Cousland scion would take a generous measure of said fluid minutes later and lather it over her body, to mark her as his. She would lick his hands clean, to acknowledge his ownership over her.

Hours flew, and the minute of each and every one was filled with gentle pleasure and merciless ecstasy. Iona did not know how many times she had stood on the precipice of losing consciousness, before being dragged back writhing and screaming into reality. She did not know how many times Aedan had filled her womb, and how many times she would drink his essence from his manhood. What she did know was that this tryst was more satisfying than she could have ever imagined, and had found herself wanting more...

She would find herself looking down at Aedan as she rode him, her hips moving in slow, sensual circles that made the latter's brows press together. She raised her arms high, imitating the Rivaini dancer from earlier, allowing her lover to run his callused hands over breast, flank and hip. The latter would soon place firm hands on the last, dictating the tempo of their lovemaking, stirring the depths of her sullied womb even as he spilled more of his seed into willing, lustful body.

Tender lovemaking soon gave way to passionate, energetic intercourse, with each downward thrust by Iona eliciting from her lips and of her lover's phallus slamming deep into her body. She could make out the slight bulge in her lower belly, testament of how tightly her body was sheathing Aedan's manhood, and how wonderful it felt. He drove her wilder and wilder, milk and bodily fluids staining the bed and their bodies, as he brought her to heights beyond the star-filled skies.

They were like wild animals in heat. No, those would be satiated when the males had successfully impregnated the females. These two would only be sated when both were sure that the raging inferno of their baser desires was extinguished. And these did so, the inhuman stamina of the human noble unleashed in a tidal wave that utterly drowned the female elf in both warm depths and swirling current.

When the inferno of passion finally dimmed to warm embers, Aedan gazed down at a panting, smiling Iona. The latter kissed him gently, thanking him without words for his leading her to a place where hardship and pain stood upon distant shores. He thrust hard into her body one last time, filling her body with seed for the final time, causing the female elf to writhe and moan.

"You...are insatiable, my lord," Iona said as the human noble pulled out of her and lowered himself next to her, "Your promise to impregnate and enslave me will most certainly come to pass. You have sown seed enough in my body that a dozen women will emerge from your embrace swollen with child and desiring more. I will most certainly be among them, for this night we have shared," the female elf's lips curved in a shy smile, "is one I desire to see repeated as often as possible..."

"Do you think your mistress will be unhappy if you choose to leave her service to enter mine?" Aedan asked.

"I doubt it, my lord," Iona chuckled, "After all, if she does become displeased, I can always remind her that it was her idea in the first place. Oh, and your mother, from her earlier words, would not mind your having an elven lover in your bed..."

"Nor would father, for that matter," the rust-haired noble replied, "I think it will do wonders to securing a more loyal following in the Alienage. As if they don't love him enough..."

The female City Elf chuckled, "Loyalty is bought both by love and a just hand, my lord. Your family has earned such so many times over that it surprises me that you and yours have yet to be rulers of Ferelden."

"We almost were," Aedan reached out and fondled her breasts, proud and firm like raspberry-tipped mountains, before running his callused hand down to her lower belly, "But I think we are happy with what we have. It gives us freedom to be what we want. Power is a thing desired by all, but the wisdom to wield it mastered by few. We will stand watch over Ferelden long after the Maker returns to us. And when that day comes, my children will be there to see the Glorious Descending."

Iona smiled, put a hand over her lover's, "I will like that, my lord."

"Come, let us sleep. We will have a long day ahead of us tomorrow."

The female elf nodded, and moved into her lover's embrace. The strong, masculine scent, the feel of his arms around her and the sound of his heartbeat lulled Iona into sweet repose, dreaming of Amethyne and her unborn children. It was a good dream, the last one she would ever have before darkness fell upon all of Ferelden, and heroes and legends were made.

 _ **Fin.**_

 _ **Author's Afterword**_

This story took me five days (which began on the 13th Feb 2016, before Valentine's Day) to complete this erotica, the fastest in all the years I have spent writing the genre. It is _not_ an easy thing to do. Some can do so. I am not one of them. To ensure that my libido does not overwhelm me as I write is enough to drive me up the wall at the best of times.

Well, moving on...

Do leave me a review. Tell me what I did right (or wrong) and if you enjoyed the story. I do need a _lot_ of practice in the erotica genre, and this is one of my (failed?) attempts. I might send in a second draft, to correct any sentence errors I may have made (or if you found one and pointed it out to me) along the way. Also, do take a peek at my other stories (and those in my favourites) and recommend them to others if you have found them interesting.

 _ **Author's Afterword 2 (Posted 18/03/2017 – Draft 2 Chapter 2)**_

It took me the better part of three weeks to finish the second draft of this story, which I hope is better than the first (in Chapter 1). Do leave me a review; tell me if you liked the second draft better, or if the first one was more to your taste. All the same, I hope you enjoyed my story.


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